


I'll Never Leave You

by rousseau



Category: Adam Lambert (Musician), Kris Allen (Musician), Tommy Ratliff (Musician)
Genre: Horses, Hurt/Comfort, Jockeys, M/M, Racing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-27
Updated: 2011-04-27
Packaged: 2017-10-18 17:27:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/191398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rousseau/pseuds/rousseau
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For Adam Lambert, an award winning racing trainer and his prize equine, Bowie, life is sweet. But, nothing lasts forever. After his long-term boyfriend and renowned jockey Kris Allen is killed in an accident, it seems everything is crumbling to the ground. Moving on is not something Adam is ready to do, and why should he? Then, by chance, up and coming rider Tommy tries his hand at handling Bowie. With his gentle hand and unassuming expertise, Tommy slowly begins to change Adam's mind. But is the risk worth it?</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'll Never Leave You

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Lambliff Big Bang with the help of Jen, the Pinch Beta Queen, and the omniawesome, Glambini.

"Kris..." Adam murmured softly, his lips ghosting around the familiar name. His hands were clasped firmly onto a limp, pale set of fingers, and he wished nothing more than to transfer his own life and strength through the touch. It had been three whole weeks; three weeks that Kris hadn't moved an inch or said a word. The respirator hummed and Adam knew.  
Kris was gone...

 

PART I: SQUARE ONE (7 Months Later)  
Adam shook the memories from his mind as he walked down the stable corridor, thoughts painfully nostalgic as he nodded a hello to each horse. He went through their names and racing numbers in his head to wash Kris's prone image away, pushing the pain down to mix with grief he never managed to process.

It was almost too haunting being here. It stirred up too much; the emotional oil and water Adam and the time had worked so hard to separate. Adam whispered the horses' names gently, a smile budding on his lips as fur-covered ears snapped forward in response to his voice. He kept walking along the corridor then, heels of worn in riding boots almost silent against the smooth concrete. An excited whinny poured from the last stall in the row, calling an odd feeling to rise in Adam's stomach.

Adam hadn't seen Bowie, Kris and Adam's prize runner, since the accident. But now, he was unhitching the latch on the wooden door with fumbling fingers and letting himself into the boxy enclave. His heart’s thumping was nearly audible in the solemn silence of the wooden structure. The horse's big, wide eyes and dominant stature seemed more daunting than ever.

Once inside, Adam caught sight of a red flier tacked to the inside of the stall door. It was labeled warning and held reports received from stable managers about Bowie's temperament change. "...known to snap and arc to handlers, take caution, as he is nervous around saddles and skittish in the pasture..." Bowie had always kept a model temperament, Adam thought.

The hands just weren't being gentle enough, the fall couldn't have changed him...or was it just another thing in Adam's life that was completely going to hell? It was painful knowing experienced and decorated riders were being snuffed by a horse with an attitude problem. Bowie tossed his head lightly, innocently; nudging Adam's shoulder without hesitation in hope for attention. Adam sucked in a breath and reached out, fingertips sweeping over a warm and silken coat. It shined even in the dimly lit square, almost a halo skirting the equine's silhouette.

"Hey boy,...It's been a while." Adam cooed, his hands now stroking firmly down Bowie's neck. He let his palm press into the white scar the horse now bore across his chest, forty-two stitches that went with two fractured ribs.Then, Adam snapped his hands away from Bowie and jammed them in the shallow pockets of his breeches. He let his head hang. For months, Adam hated Bowie for living, hated that goddamned horse for denying his bloodline and his training and falling, falling- during a race. And now, the bag of fur thinks he has liberty to become an ugly buck? If Bowie had just kept his footing even, no matter if they lost, Kris wouldn't be six feet under the track, he'd still be sprinting over it. Kris always wanted his soundtrack to eternity to be the thrum of racing hooves, but that eternity had come entirely too fast. Maybe Adam coming back to the ranch was too fast, as well.

Even though he was good at keeping the anger and the grief at bay, the memory of being back in the stables was tugging at his composure. In times like these, when the untamed emotions reared their ugly heads, Adam went back to the facts.

The fact was that Bowie was here and Kris was not. The fact was that Bowie was alive and he deserved to live, especially after making such a full and prompt recovery. Adam felt a pang of guilt for completely ignoring his Mustang- Thoroughbred Prestige, daily runs fading into weekly once-overs by paid strangers. His grace period for mourning Kris was over. Life had to go on, and Bowie needed to be back on the track. Kris would have wanted it. Adam pulled his hands out of his pockets with a dreary smile and placed them back on Bowie’s face.

"We'll find you a good rider, Bow."

"Mr. Lambert?" A small voice echoed through the stable corridor somewhere behind them. Adam turned around slowly, hay shuffling under his feet as Bowie stuck his head over the half-opened door. "Hi. I'm Tommy."

"Hello..." Adam's voice trailed off curiously as he stepped out from the stable, taking in the sight of the man before him. He was nothing taller than five-five, petite body and ashen blonde hair. His eyes were a depth of brown Adam had never seen other than looking into the mouth of a coffee cup. Tommy and his eyes smiled slightly. Beige jodhpurs stretched across lean and muscular legs, a sweater pulled over a polo covering his chest and arms.

"I'm here about the riding position, with Bowie....I was the one Cassidy recommended?"

"Oh, right, right." Adam nodded his head, but still kept his eyes transfixed on the aspiring jockey. There was something about him, something Adam couldn't name but positively felt. Their hands connected in a firm and sure handshake.

"Have you heard anything about Bowie?" Adam pulled his hand away and called Tommy closer to the stable door, snatching down the warning flier with a stealthily swiping hand.

"Hard to have not heard about him, you know? Not many horses come back from a fall like that. And, I'm uh, I'm sorry about..." Tommy’s face fell.

"Yeah, no, it's alright." Adam waved his hands in front of him as if to stop Tommy's condolences. "Why don't you try handling him?" Adam unhitched the door again and motioned for Tommy to take over, unsure of Bowie’s reaction or the new-coming jockey’s skill. As far as he knew, the stable admins had gone through rider after rider in search of someone that Bowie would work with, even just long enough to be exercised. Bowie would barely allow himself to be led by anyone, nevermind a brand new face and an unfamiliar hand. Adam watched the pair intently.

There was no reluctance as Tommy slipped his left hand into the leather loop on Bowie's halter. He reached up with his other hand and patted at the soft skin on the horse's lip, stroking down smoothly before walking him out of the corridor and out into the sunlit arena. Tommy was leading Bowie farther into the ring and the searing afternoon's glow. Was it hope or anxiety creating the tornado in his chest?

 

PART II: THE BEGINNING OF THE END  
"I swear to God, that damned horse lunged with him like they'd been friends for years." Adam balanced the phone between his shoulder blade and his ear as he chopped at vegetables with a freshly sharpened knife, careful to not lose fingers in the awkward-angled process. He was explaining to Cassidy, one of the jockeys at the ranch and Kris's long time friend, about his meeting with Tommy. Cassidy and Kris had an unspoken bond about the care of their horses in the event of an accident, and

Cassidy, who was colloquially known as the Stallion’s Casanova hadn't even had any luck. After that dismal and disheartening report, Adam considered giving up and selling Bowie for good. But, Cassidy assured he had the man for the job, even though that man had only been in... two races before. He hurried past that part with a sly smile. Cassidy went on for nearly an hour talking about Tommy’s rather unorthodox riding style, accolades, even recommendations. But as much as

Adam wanted to accept the new opportunity, Tommy wasn’t Kris. No one was. Even so, Tommy was working to prove himself.  
"That horse hasn't been led without a bite harness in what, a month? His ears didn't pin once." Adam put the final cut into a batch of green peppers and scooped them into the pot of broth to simmer. He placed the knife down in the chrome plated sink and leaned against the counter, the cold of the solid granite travelling through his thin tee and icing a line into his lower back. He listened to Cassidy and his well-intentioned suggestions halfheartedly. Soon, the voice on the other line became a murmur.

“Adam...hey, you still there?” Cassidy inquired.

“Yeah, yeah...what did you say?”

“I was asking if you’re going to at least take a chance on the kid. He deserves it.” Adam worried his lower lip, and fell into a long pause.

“I guess. I'll be at the stable all day tomorrow. Let me know when you get there." Adam hung up before Cassidy could reply and let his head drop into his hands, phone abandoned on the counter. He wasn't hungry; why was he even cooking? Was it still force of habit, always coming home to Kris and dinner? His fingers reached mechanically for the dial on the stove and flicked it off, the russet colored liquid's simmer slowing.

He sighed from somewhere deep inside and shuffled to the living room. Adam threw himself onto the couch with an apathetic groan, expression blank as he fought his internal emotions. He wanted nothing more than to break down and sob bitterly for as long as it took to reach some sort of catharsis. What stopped him from doing that, though, was his knowing that any and all of that would not, under any circumstances bring Kris back.

Kris was dead. Dead, dead, dead. Adam needed to stop waiting for him to come waltzing through the door, because he never would. Never, never, never. Adam slumped against the arm of the couch, eyes falling and fixating on the massive painting of he, Kris and Bowie standing in the victory circle of the Prix Regale. The track was clear post-race, a landscaped and unforgiving path to victory winding in an oval around them. Bowie's proud head was held high, neck rimmed in a cowl of delicate flowers and braided ribbons. Champagne bubbles sat pompously on Kris and Adam's shoulders, the crowd's cheers still deafening in their ears. In the center, the two were locked into a proud and triumphant kiss, both men excited and terribly short for breath. At that moment, what hit Adam the hardest was that as time went on, the painting was becoming more vivid than the memory.

Adam slept there that night on the couch without a blanket, cold conditioned air making his skin prickle the way his heart did when it was reminded of Kris. His eyes stayed locked on the gold-framed painting until they burned then closed, tears slowly beginning to leak from the corners and march trails down to his chin.

Adam woke up the next morning sore and joints creaking, face sticky with the salty residue of unwiped tears. He shook his head at himself and headed in for a rushed and hasty shower. Fluffy towels that once retained Kris's scent and felt luxurious against skin seemed rough, like sandpaper. This was why Adam kept everything stuffed away. The loss was too deep to deal with. It was easier to just ignore the pain and tuck things away. He was tired of the tears and the breakdowns and the condolences, and it had to end. For now, he had to talk to a man about a horse.

 

PART III: THE WHAT IS DONE CANNOT BE UNDONE  
When Adam rounded the bend and headed toward Bowie's stable corridor, he noticed Tommy already standing at the partition. His hands were busy stroking the horse’s forelock and cheek, nickers of enjoyment rumbling from Bowie's chest.

"You would be a sucker for a face rub, huh?" Tommy's voice was soft and playful, his care for the horse already evident. Adam kept his footfalls light as he approached, stopping a few stalls down just to observe. He watched as Tommy's fingers skipped over prominent facial bones, noticed how his pink lips curved around gentle words.

"You just wonder why everyone's so afraid, right?" Tommy smiled, a row of ivory teeth revealing themselves. "You're not half bad, Bow. All you need is someone to trust you." The jockey produced sugar cubes from the pocket of his blazer and held them in an open hand, spreading his fingers when the horse's hot breath puffed out onto his wrist. He let his grin widen when a flaxen muzzle pulled them onto a pink tongue.

"Already spoiling his diet?" Adam said from the corner, uncrossing his arms as he made his way over.

"Just a treat. Everyone deserves one once in a while." Tommy took his hands away from the horse without guilt and stood up straight, gaze set on Adam.

"Once in a while." Adam looked over to Bowie. The horse's eyes were open just a little wider, his coat glimmering just a little brighter. He let his gaze linger just a moment more before continuing. "Today, I want you to mount up. We'll see how things go." Adam gestured towards the saddle and bridle hanging on the tack racks outside the stall. "I'll be outside." Adam turned on his heels and nearly sprinted out of the hall.

Tommy came out a quick five minutes later, sitting light and poised atop Bowie's back. The horse had no protests to the weight and held his head high, ears pricked forward and shoulders squared.

"He's a beautiful horse." Tommy said, shifting in the saddle.

"He is. How's it feel?" Tommy guided Bowie over to Adam, letting the owner survey the way his horse and new rider fit together. It was seamless.

"Perfect."

"Good, then. Paces, please?" The jockey turned then and led Bowie into the ring, leaning forward to rub into his withers, offering encouragement. He gave a squeeze around the horse's girth and a soft verbal click, urging him up into a hurried walk. He goaded, in succession, into a trot, then canter, hips rocking over the neoprene seat to the smooth movements the horse made.

Adam stood there, leaning against the barn, eyes set on the horizon in an expression marred with confusion. There was something natural about the way Tommy looked on Bowie, the line of his back and the bend in his knees. The image was so new but so painfully familiar, a tired scene with new actors. Guilt was now rising in Adam's chest, slithering through his veins and threatening to make him shudder. It grew more and more intense with each and every lap around the ring. Was it right to be seeing someone on Bowie again?

The rhythmic sound of hooves on dry ground began drumming in Adam’s ears, the reverberating steps synchronizing with the nervous beating of his heart. The scene was so full, but too empty, because even though everything was familiar, nothing was the same.

Tommy unknowingly kept in his unshakable focus, Bowie's canter easy and robust, the metal grommets his on gloves and blazer glimmering in the sun.

"Good, good. That's enough." Adam approached the ring with an outstretched hand before pointing to the sprinting length with his index finger. In an impulse, he barked, "I want to see you run him."

"Already?" Tommy questioned as he rewarded Bowie with another pat, looking from Adam, to the track, and back again. But, it was now or never. The guilt, at this point, would either overcome Adam completely or drive him forward. Without thinking,

Adam started toward the straightaway at a brisk walk, leaving a confused Tommy, eager Bowie and consuming memories of Kris right where they were.

“Go.”  
Although the command was simple, the action was magnificent. As soon as Adam promoted, Tommy leaned in and let Bowie rocket forward, lurching at first, then falling into flawless step. It seemed like the injury forced the horse to crave the thrill of sprinting, willing his legs to extend and retract in perfect form. Bowie galloped the single furlong in record time. But, in the short time it took Bowie to launch to the endpoint marker, Adam’s heart made a takeoff of its own. He saw that Tommy wanted Bowie, and Bowie wanted to win.

"He's never run like that before." Adam peered over Tommy's shoulder to the pasture where Bowie was grazing peacefully. The scene was already on loop in his head.

"It may have been a first-run promise." Tommy smiled and separated the Velcro on his riding gloves, looking up to Adam with a hopeful grin.

"Possibly. I wanted to formally ask you if you'd take on the project that is Bowie, though. He's taken to you."

"I'll formally accept your offer, then." The guilt in Adam's chest started slowly making way for something more pleasant, something contagious and warm, something that was just this side of hope. Though he was still seeing a Tommy that looked a little too much like Kris, he was starting to see a Bowie that looked less like a killer and more like a winner.

"Meet me at the address on my business card after you're done here. We'll finalize everything then." Adam pulled a black and blue rectangle from his pocket, silver horseshoes and contact information emblazoned on top of the flexible cardboard. He extended his arm, handing it to Tommy.

"Sounds good to me." Tommy added another smile as he looked at it and a with a parting nod, watched as Adam turned to walk away. The jockey stirred though, and reached out after his new boss, catching the round of his shoulder with a light grasp.

"Mr. Lambert?"

"Call me Adam."

"Adam...thank you. For this, and you know..."

"You earned it." Adam wanted to tear Tommy's hand off of his shoulder, the sweet heat feeling more like fire jumping through the layers of his clothes. It was affection, and Adam craved it, but it was foreign at this point. He felt as if he didn't deserve it anymore, as if it was off limits. Adam forced a faked smile and walked off, steps echoing in the corridor as Tommy watched.

 

PART IV: COLD COMFORT  
Adam was leaning on the counter with bent elbows, looking over the court verified owner/rider agreements, lease lines and other useless, legal alphabet soup. His fingertips rapped on the speckled granite in time with the ticking of the clock. The sudden knock at the door broke the waiting trance that kept Adam cradled, sending him hustling to the door. He twisted the knob and pulled it open. It had been just a few hours since they last parted at the Ranch, then Tommy still in his riding gear, hair wet and curling at the hairline from the seal under his helmet. Now, he stood in a black button down and an open white vest, crisp and stark contrast hanging over darkest indigo jeans. He had a random assortment of wristbands and beads jangling from his wrists where his sleeves were turned up, catching the light and making small sounds when they jostled against each other.

"Hey, thanks for coming..." Adam stepped back and out of Tommy's way, allowing him to step in, his shoes making soft clicks against the hardwood.

"No problem." Tommy blinked into the apartment's dim lighting, the lazy motion giving Adam time to notice a charcoal rim around the lids of his eyes. There was a pink tint to his lips that Adam never noticed before, and the urge to press a finger to one, or both, was embarrassingly prevalent. But, Adam's stare was only momentary, because this was strictly business, and the two of them moved into the kitchen and pulled up stools at the counter, each a pen in hand.

"This is just an Owner/Rider agreement," Adam began, inverting the paper so Tommy could read, pointing to the dotted line at the bottom. "This just basically outlines the procedures and..." Before Adam could finish explaining, Tommy pulled the paper under his hand and scribbled his signature, disregarding the babbling in size eight font that filled the page.

"You're not going to read any of that?" Adam’s head cocked to the side.

"Don't need to. I trust you, and I'm not going to steal Bowie." Tommy looked up from his hand and pushed the paper back in Adam's direction, waiting for the next thing he'd need to sign, ready to agree to something else that really didn't matter.

"It's a little more than that, you know." Adam handed him another paper, this one a lease form full of numbers and interest rates and years. Tommy looked it over when it was positioned under his nose, eyes jumping from the monthly figure to the line where he'd sign. In an instant, his signature was on the paper and rights to Bowie were half Tommy's.

"No negotiation?" Adam's expression was confused, his eyebrows raised in a questioning manner directed at his new employee.

"Negotiate what? Look, Mr. Lambert...Adam, I mean, if you haven't gotten it yet, this is what I want. I want to race, and I want to race with Bowie, and whatever number or term or legal jargon you throw at me on paper or otherwise isn't going to stop me. Thanks for the opportunity to jack the price down, but you and I both know Bowie is still worth more than either one of us could afford." Adam was stunned as he pulled the sheet back towards him and looked at the scribbled strokes Tommy's hand had made.

"Well, thank you. I hope it's everything you expect it to be."

"I know it will be." Tommy replied, watching as Adam slid off of the stool, and stepped over to the fridge.

"You want something to drink? The traffic's going to be horrific if you leave now."

"Yeah, sure. Thanks." Adam reached in and pulled out two beers like it wasn't a near stranger he was offering one to. As he stepped over to the drawer with the bottle openers, he wondered why Tommy was so quiet. It took one look for Adam to follow the man’s line of vision; Tommy’s eyes had fallen on the portrait of Kris, Adam, and Bowie. It was majestic in its frame, the colors vivid and melancholy. Tommy’s face read guilt.

"Don't...just..." Adam had to resist the urge to take the painting down once and for all with a hammer.

"I wasn't..." Tommy began, looking now at Adam and the grief plowed lines appearing between his eyebrows and hairline. In an instant, like a time bomb with a spasmodic clock, Adam blew up.

"You weren't what? Weren't going to tell me how sorry you are and how I'm being so good with this? Don't even try to tell me you know what this feels like or that time will make it better. Because you know what, Tommy? I've heard that shit so many times from so many people in the last couple months and they are all wrong." Adam was almost panting now, unshed tears gathering at the corners of pained irises. His gaze on Bowie's new jockey was concrete hard, but Tommy's voice was soft.

"All I wanted to say was...I hope I can be half the rider he was." Tommy let his eyes fall. The anguish rippling across Adam's face was unbearable, and there was nothing more that Tommy wanted to do other than wrap Adam and his near shaking frame in his arms and rock it all out. But he couldn't, because Adam wouldn't let him, and Tommy wasn't near bold enough to try.

So, instead of comfort, Tommy just pushed away from the counter and walked back to the door, letting himself out as fast as he could. He hoped now that he'd get caught in some traffic; it would give him time to think.

 

 

PART V: IMPERFECT PRACTICES

When Adam guided his Mustang into the parking lot of the ranch, he noticed Tommy's car already backed into a space near the front. The gunmetal gray paint matched the brooding hue in the sky, clouds bobbing and colliding thousands of feet above. It'd rain soon, and the inside arena was closed, so they'd better make this quick. Adam nodded greeting to riders and handlers he passed on his way in, pushing through the doors to reach Bowie's stable block out back. When he rounded the bend, Tommy was standing there in another one of his navy blazers, a skull-patterned scarf peeking out from underneath the double breasted lapel. His hands were busy with Bowie's bridle, hooking buckles for a perfect fit.

"Hey...you're early." Adam said without thinking, his voice too loud in his ears. He immediately flashed back to the night before, his snapping remarks and the whoosh of the door as Tommy walked right out.

"Yeah, I've been here. Figured I'd clean tack or something." Adam just nodded and watched the lithe fingers work against the black leather and Bowie's bay coat. Tommy touched the last metal buckle with a sense of completion and turned around, leaning against the wooden door. "Are you alright?" It was only right to ask, even though Tommy knew Adam would lie; the drive home was more telling than his boss would be. Tommy was feeling guilty, too, for maybe coming in too soon, too strong, stepping into a position that wasn't yet ready to be filled. But that feeling seemed to be fading now, the thoughts melting and making way for a glimmer of warmth in Tommy's chest. It contrasted against the frigid cold in Adam's eyes and the dreary, gray horizon. It was something private and tentative that Tommy couldn't quite explain.

"Sure...I'm fine," Adam paused, looking down at his feet, "You ready to get some practice in?" Tommy snapped up and shoved his hands into his pockets.

"Yeah, I'll meet you at the straightaway." Adam gave a half-lipped smile and shuffled to the edge of the corridor, only the sound of his heart thumping and locks clicking as horse and rider geared to follow.

The sun's absence cast shadows under the wind-whipped trees. The straightaway seemed to glow under the dark skies, raised and important. Adam held his stopwatch in the center of his palm, index finger laying ready above the start button. He looked up from the clear face of the instrument and to Tommy and Bowie, who were waiting for instruction.

"Take the furlong at a control, sprint back. Start on my signal." The jockey nodded, adjusting his helmet and patting Bowie while leading him to the starting platform.

Three, two, one... Bowie's first instinct was to shoot off immediately after weight was lifted from his back, but Tommy held the reins fast. Bowie prepared to rear and yanked at the leather straps, hooves falling in a crooked and erratic rhythm. Tommy bore down with matching force and rocked forward, resetting the horse's gait and bringing him into a smooth and controlled step. He took the rest of the distance begrudgingly but well, stretching out his stride for the day's work.

"Good, now come back." Tommy nodded again after he had turned around and backed Bowie onto the opposite platform, reins much looser this time.

Three, two, one... Adam prompted a second time, the stopwatch beeping as it flickered to life. Bowie crossed the straightaway in seconds, but to Adam, it felt like an eternity. Watching Bowie streak across the fenced mile seeing and Tommy's perfect, risen form seemed to hold time in place.

"Adam?" Tommy's shout over the wind snapped him back to reality.

"Yeah!" Adam called back, eyebrows pushing together, his vision slowly becoming crisp.

"What was our time?" Tommy inquired, pointing at the stopwatch Adam held. Adam looked too, only to find that it was still counting off seconds, one by one. He stabbed the stop button with an anxious finger and huffed.

"Uh...it was good, good. One more, then we'll head back. The lessons are done inside." Tommy gave him a confused look but obeyed, leading Bowie at atrot back to the straightaway. He could only ever hope to know what Adam was thinking.

~~~

Adam opened the gate on foot for his horse and rider, watching the pair's jaunty walk to the center of the inside ring.

"There you go, Bow..." Adam crooned while standing in front of Bowie, gently billing his nose. Tommy's expression was spaced and thoughtful as he watched Adam from the horse's back.

"What is it?" He asked, when he saw Tommy, the rider’s eyes transfixed and lips curving. Adam’s hands stopped their rubs over Bowie's nose and dropped to his sides.

"Nothing, it's just I don't think I've ever seen you smile."

"Well..." Adam forced the corners of his mouth down.

"Well nothing. You should do it more." Tommy let his own smile broaden then, taking up the reins once more and turning Bowie to the corner. "Waiting on directions, Adam." The trainer sighed and pocketed his hands into the folds of his jacket. Maybe he would smile a little more, if he could find some reasons.

"I want zig darts at a trot, canter and lope first, then start with some circle bends in the same. Whenever you're ready." Tommy nodded and began, but not before whispering to himself, "For someone so beautiful, you sure don't know it."

~~~

By the time the trio was done for the day, Bowie was panting and huffing, chest heaving in an attempt to suck in as much air as possible. Tommy had retired quickly to Bowie's stall in a rush to get him some water and untack him. Leaving Adam alone in the ring. He spun lazily in a circle, looking at the siding on the walls, the rain beginning to make metallic pops on the roof. It soothed him, and he closed his eyes. The first thing he remembered was Tommy sitting only a few feet away with his voice level, asking him to smile. It had been so long since Adam felt like he had a real reason, someone to admire the show of his teeth and the curl in his cheeks.

Facing the rain and hands still in his pockets, Adam, for what may have been the first time in a while, smiled. His teeth showed and his cheeks curled. And, he thought, there in that arena, that from there on out, he'd have to find more reasons.

~~~

Back in the the stall, Bowie snorted and sucked in his water, content to dip his head down to catch the stray pieces of hay dangling from the feeding basket. Over the sound of the horse's hasty swallows, Tommy heard footsteps.

"Adam?" Tommy stepped away from the stable door and walked around the corner corridor divider. He poked his head down the hall, the soft pats of worn in paddock boots sounding nearer. "Hello?" Tommy huffed and headed down the concourse at a slow jog, helmet bouncing in his hand. His voice echoed around him, a quizzical expression rippling across his face.

"You there?" After another endless row of stable partitions, and more plodding footsteps came a rush of heat. Warm hands pressed firmly to the sides of Tommy's waist, dragging him close and lifting him onto his toes. His breath nearly left him as he crashed into Adam's chest, soft and broad.

"I'm right here," the taller man said, voice even and calming. His arms clasped firmly around the small of Tommy's back. Tommy didn't vacillate in bracing himself with square-palmed hands on Adam's shoulders, tilting his head up, pursing his lips. It all connected in an instant; their mouths meeting in a gentle twist, eyes closed. When they parted, the air between them was heavy and thick.

But, it didn't take long for Adam to realize that the kiss, the way Tommy felt in his arms, the smell of leather and the whinnies of horses in the background...were all too much. Adam ripped his body away and started down the nearest hall, fingertips white and pressing into his forehead. As he stepped farther away, his breath came back in short huffs, heart racing, mind nearly numb. Before he could be swept away entirely by a tide of uncertain emotions, a pair of small hands pressed into his back. It was like Tommy was the hero firefighter that dared to brave the flame that threatened the entire city. The words were nearly inaudible, but Adam heard them as Tommy spoke.

“I’m here too.” It took a moment for Adam to register before whipping around, catching sight of the man before him. Tommy stood there like a wall of unshakable promise despite his unassuming stature, representing something so seemingly permanent that Adam couldn't resist. But he had to. Adam had to resist because he knew that nothing was permanent.

"I'm sorry...Tommy, so sorry." Adam spit murmured apologies like he was making up for the plague. The heel of his palm pressed into his forehead, nervous heat radiating off of his skin. He felt cooler hands then, pulling his own gently but sternly away, fingers interlocking.

"Don't be. This is fine." Tommy's eyes were closed and sympathetic, calm in the wake of Adam's emotional distress. Adam wanted to shake him at the shoulders and scream, ask why he was so damn okay with his basketcase boss coming in and laying one on him. What Tommy was doing was most definitely not okay. He couldn’t just let himself become Adam's crutch. But, it wasn't worth fighting, so against his better judgement, Adam just let his head hang.

"Ever since Kris died, Tommy...nothing has been the same. And if you haven’t noticed, you two share a certain..dangerous profession, so this is not fine." Adam's rambling words were cut short by a purse of pink lips again over his, coaxing them into relaxation and slow, languid movement. They pulled apart only momentarily, their foreheads coming to rest against one another.

"Adam, it's fine. Give me a chance, at least...I wasn’t really expecting this either, but it’s got to be happening for a reason." Tommy tripped over words desperately, being careful to say the right thing that would let him in. He wasn't sure about half of what he was feeling, and some crucial reasoning probably never took place, but it felt right. That was good enough for him.

Adam's head dropped onto Tommy's shoulder, and Tommy's hands came up to tangle in the short and feather soft hairs at the back of his neck. Tommy soothed in gentle circles down Adam’s back, offering as much comfort as he could.

"Hey, hey, listen..." the jockey assuaged, standing up just a little taller to support Adam better, fingers coming out of raven colored hair and wrapping around near shaking shoulders. "You're gonna be....we'll be okay." Adam drew in a shaky breath, lifted his head and put on a smile. It was radiant, though thin, a sliver of ivory teeth wrapped in flush-pink lips.

"That's what I've been waiting for..." Tommy said, but Adam's smile was short lived as Tommy covered it with his own.

 

Part VI: COOPER'S

"You looked great today, this whole week, really." Adam remarked as he walked with Tommy from the stable blocks to their cars.

"Thanks. Bowie's getting into it. He wants to run again." Tommy gushed, his pace slowing.

"He's always wanted to run and, it was always harder to get him to stop than to start." Adam reflexively shortened his stride, keeping in time with Tommy's.

"Hey," Tommy cut in, now stopped completely. "Do you want to go for dinner? I don't know about you, but I'm..."

"Sure." Adam forced himself to agree before he had time to refuse the offer, some inner part of his heart knowing it was better to be in Tommy's company than alone at home.

"Great...I know a place near Summit....Cooper's."

"The music bar?" Adam questioned, just a little surprised. Tommy playfully sniggered in reply, and dug in his dufflebag for keys.

"That's the one. Some of my old friends from a band I was in started it after I started racing."

"You quit a band to race?" Adam looked at Tommy, eyebrows raised as they started walking again, leaded towards the jockey's Camaro.

"Yeah, what? Don't believe me?" Tommy cracked a smile.

"Of course I do, you just..." Adam searched for the words.

"Don't seem like the band type?” Adam nodded. “Yeah, I know...no one seems to think so."

"Guess that means you made the right choice." Tommy had his hand on the door handle now, closely watching Adam's face just in case another fleeting smile would make an appearance.

"I think I did. You ready?" The door came open with a pop and Adam ducked in, settling down in the bound leather seat as Tommy made his way around the hood of the car. He shoved his keys into the ignition with a quiet excitement, put the car into reverse, and turned out of the lot.

~~~

"This is it." Tommy cut the engine in a parking space near the back of the building, flashing neon lights a bright contrast in the setting sun. Adam just hummed and followed Tommy to the back door, walking closely and in synchronized step.

"Tommy! Well look, if it isn't the Exiled Charlie Horse himself." A portly man of average height, and about thirty-five greeted Tommy with a wave and a sardonic smile. A thick black strip of hair started at his bottom lip and traveled down to hang past his chin. He pulled at it after he released Tommy from a rough and obnoxious handshake. "Who's your friend?", inquired the man, taking a moment to give Adam the once over.

"Oh. Monte, this is Adam, he trains my horse. And uh, Adam, Monte." Tommy was thankful for the dim lighting that hid the blush rising from beneath his polo’s collar.

"I'm guessing I don't get an intro? Well, Adam, it's nice to meet you. I'm the former frontman of The Auxillaries, and owner of this seedy joint."

"It ain't seedy you dumbass." A raspy voice came from behind the counter near the steps leading to the stage. This man was considerably taller, his arms covered in swirling ink. He held a guitar by its worn down neck in one hand, and reached for Adam's with the other.

"Hey, nice to see you again, kid. Who's your friend?" By this time, Tommy was ready to head for the hills. What was supposed to be a quiet dinner was turning out to be an embarrassingly bad family reunion.

"We, uh...we work together. Adam, how about we sit?"

"Yeah, sure..." Adam let Tommy lead him by the wrist to a booth snugged up against a wall in the far corner, safe from prying eyes and old bandmembers.

~~~

"Sorry about them..." Tommy said with an apologetic shrug, scooting in after Adam in the semi-circle bench.

"Why? They weren't too bad. Your average rockers, right?" Tommy laughed and smiled down into his lap. Adam just observed for just a moment, the way Tommy's blonde hair tinted blue in the spotlight, the haze that laid over the stage and the smell of an open, velvet guitar case. It was a concentration of all things music, something that dropped completely out of Adam's life after Kris died. He remembered a day from a couple months ago, a memory of Kris that took him back instantly.

~~~

Kris was sitting on the terrace of their shared apartment cross legged, hair in a bed-headed fluff. He'd slept on the couch last night, evidenced by the stiff way he held his back and the wrinkles in a plain white tee he'd yet to change. Kris had come in late after a training session the night before, his body screaming for rest and his eyes begging to close. He decided against waking Adam though, choosing to forgo the comfort his boyfriend would surely provide. For once, Kris would afford Adam a time when he didn’t have to worry about his safety. Now, he was outside on the sun-warmed tile with his favorite guitar, lovingly dubbed Lucy, cradled between cotton-clad thighs. The cool, lacquered wood glistened in the morning light. His eyes were bright as his fingers plucked a melody from the strings, notes mingling in the fresh air. The memory was sugar sweet but so far gone...

~~~

"Adam, hey! You alright over there?" Tommy's hand was like an electric shock on his shoulder. Adam shook it away and the smile ghosted from his face.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm fine, why?"

"Besides spacing out on me completely...what the hell were you thinking about, anyways? I've never seen you smile like that." Adam looked away, unsure of whether to claw at the memory and try to keep it, or force it away. While Adam struggled, Tommy immediately recognized the forlorn expression. He sighed and placed his hand over Adam's, gently running his thumb across the knuckles there before speaking, his voice low and reverent, "Was it Kris?" Tommy worried his bottom lip while waiting for Adam’s reply.

"Yeah...uh, he used to play guitar." Adam turned his own hand around so it would face Tommy's, pressing their palms together and lacing their fingers together. "You do, too?"

"How'd you know?" Tommy cocked is head to the side, warmth from Adam's touch radiating up from his fingertips, and landing straight at his heart.

"The callouses. I guess I'd know them anywhere." Tommy sighed, at a loss for words when Adam said, "You really remind me of him."

"Adam, I'm really sorry, but...is all of this too soon for you?" Tommy went to pull their hands apart but Adam tugged them back, refusing to let go.

"You know what, yes. It’s probably way too soon. But I like this. I haven't smiled or laughed or had a reason other than Bowie to not drive straight off of the Royal Gorge in months. If it takes someone that reminds me of what I lost to get over it, so be it." It was Tommy's chance to be taciturn this time. But before the silence could linger, Adam cupped the side of Tommy's face in his free hand, thumb teasing over a high cheekbone. "I like having you around...and besides, you said you weren't going anywhere."

"I’m not." Tommy replied.

"Good." Adam smiled one of those smiles that made Tommy weak and leaned in for a kiss. Tommy met him halfway with waiting lips, and when they parted, a smile wider than the one before it pulled at Adam's cheeks.

 

Part VII: Caught

"He's just getting better...every week, he’s...wow." Tommy gushed as he tugged his riding gloves off by the fingers walking in step with Adam from the straightaway to the stable.

"You are, too." Adam gave a smile and slung his arm around Tommy's shoulder, pulling the jockey into his side and squeezing him closer. Tommy just tucked his head down and wrapped his own arm around Adam's waist. He was warm despite the chilly winter air. They walked up the near-frozen embankment in comfortable, deliberate silence headed toward the stable when Adam suddenly stopped.

"Follow me." In an instant, Adam took off down the cobblestone path, the sound of boots breaking the serene quiet. Tommy picked up a jog and Adam was already a few yards away, turning into the first stable corridor.

"God, wait up!" Tommy lost sight of Adam by the time he reached the stable for himself, craning his neck in circles to spot the tall and familiar frame. "Adam, where the hell did you go?" Tommy stopped in front of a stable marked with the placard Charlotte, waiting in annoyed anticipation for a reply. He heard rustling though, and turned back towards it, immediately spying a wooden floorboard that had been pried open. A makeshift rope and plank ladder hung from the now gaping ceiling and Adam's head poked out of it.

"Up here," he said, face alight with a giddy and childish smile. Tommy had no choice but to grin back, pushing through the stable door and grasping onto the ladder. He pulled himself up and onto the floor easily, landing in a pile of hay directly across from Adam.

"I never knew this was here." Tommy said quietly, as if keeping a secret. "I thought only the muckers used pitchforks to get stuff from up here."

"I'm full of surprises." Tommy turned over and grinned at Adam, watching as he tried to maneuver his six foot frame in the impossibly tight space.

"It comes in handy being tiny." Tommy crawled over to a scoffing Adam with a slithering ease and followed his pointing to the far end of the loft, where sunlight filtered in through an open panel.

"Over here." Adam prompted with a finger, shuffling between bales of bound hay on bent knees. He beamed when his front was washed in the warm, natural light, sitting so his legs dangled off of the edge. Tommy came and copied him, squinting into the light with an appreciative wonder. He placed his hand onto the side of Adam's neck, gently pulling it down. When their eyes met they both smiled, broad and genuine. Tommy moved his face up just slightly, catching Adam's lips in a deep kiss. Adam's hand rested high on the curve of Tommy's thigh, the other pressing firmly on the small of his back. They parted, and the smiles returned.

Cassidy had been watching from his horse's stall, though, and had spotted them while grooming after a hacking trip. He was caught between rolling his eyes and being honestly happy for Adam's moving on, but in his head it was nothing more than a rebound. And how long could a rebound possibly last? Cassidy put his boar head brush down on the shelf and stared up at the two men in the hay loft. Their arms were tangled and their noses just barely touching as they shared warmth in the coming Spring's still bitter, sunny cold. They leaned in for one last, exploring kiss before separating for good, Tommy going back first and crawling to the hatch in Garnet's stable. When Adam swung down, he stretched his arms up grandly before speaking.

"I'm getting way too big for that place." Before Tommy could come back with a smart remark about how Adam's teasing about his stature was coming back to bite him, Cassidy jogged by.

"Oh, hey guys...I see you've found the hay loft."

"Always a good hideout." Adam said, looking up to the still open hatch.

"Yeah, hey...do you mind if I talk to you for a second, Adam? Just wanted to, you know..."

"Sure. Tommy, meet me back at Bowie's stall okay?" Adam turned to Tommy and stroked down his back, offering a smile before following Cassidy down the corridor. They had come to an abrupt stop just a few stalls down when Cassidy turned and began speaking without filter.

"Adam, I sure as hell don't want to be the one to tell you, but this thing you've got going with Tommy is nothing good." Cassidy huffed like he had just dropped a ton of bricks. He looked cautiously at Adam, who was leaning against a wooden strut with his arms crossed over his chest, a gray, skull-covered scarf that Cassidy swore he'd seen once before on Tommy tied around his neck.

"Who are you to say that, Cass? Where is this even coming from? If anything, I'd think you'd be happy to see I'm not moping around like a lost foal anymore."

"Yeah, yeah, I know this is making you happy, believe me, I get it. I just don't want this to turn into some cataclysmic disaster, man. Tommy's a great guy, but don't you think it's all too soon?"

"Is there some standard grief period timeline I wasn't handed at the funeral or something? Because I'm fucking sick and tired of being unhappy. It's been long enough."

"How do you know you're happy, Adam? Come on. You miss Kris...and it's okay to say you do, just don't use Tommy to fill the void.” Adam's head was spinning so fast he was afraid it'd fly off. He knew he'd been doing the right thing with Tommy, working back to happiness.

"Cassidy, just....just...go. This has nothing to do with you. Thanks for trying to care, but you're doing it all wrong." With that, Adam turned on his heels and started off for Bowie's stall. Tommy would be there, and whatever Cassidy said or thought, he was what Adam needed.

"At least think about things before you go and..." Cassidy shouted after Adam as he stomped off, but nothing would change his mind.

~~~

"Hey, you alright? Lost you for a second there." Tommy's face was a welcome image on the background of the still slowly setting sun, the open stable door letting the cool air in. He looked at Adam with the fascination that only accompanies a budding love.

"Come here..." Adam had nothing better to say. He just opened his arms and watched as Tommy obediently stepped over and tumbled into them, wrapping his arms completely around Adam's waist and pulling close. Adam rubbed along the top of Tommy's shoulders, fingers rippling over the buttons on his blazer, the bones in his spine.

"You okay?" Tommy prodded again.

"Yeah, I'm good." Adam reached over and pushed mussed blonde hair from Tommy's eyes, letting the back of his hand linger over flushed ivory skin.

"Want to get out of here?" Adam asked almost inaudibly, as his hand wrapped around Tommy's.

"Only if you come with me," the shorter man's coy smile was covered with a kiss. It was Adam's way of saying he would.

 

PART VIII: FLASHBACK

The night Adam and Tommy spent together was perfect until the end, Tommy's sleepy goodbyes mumbled into the hollow of Adam's collarbone. They spent their time tangled on the couch watching westerns back to back, laughing at all of the shoot-out one-liners and bad actors' riding like old friends with no complications.They might have overdone it on the beer and the kisses, but really, all was well.

But, now, Adam was seeing it all as a mistake. It was the morning after and he woke up with a knot in his chest that a Boy Scout would walk away from. It reminded him why he hated the way he thought so much, his uncanny ability to always find the bad in a world of good. He detested his brain's talent for warning his heart of upcoming pain even more than he hated the pain itself. His head was flying red flags in a desperate attempt to make sure his heart understood that this was a very, very bad idea. And it was a bad idea simply because Tommy liked a certain few dangerous things that had a knack for killing the people Adam loved. Yeah, the actual statistic was somewhere around 2 in 1000, but that was plenty. Adam couldn't let himself get into a real relationship with Tommy knowing there was that sort of chance. It was nice, the companionship in the wake of loss, but Tommy had to understand that Adam wasn't on the market for a disposable partner. Adam couldn't stand someone else he loved getting up on that track and not coming off of it. If only Adam could have kept his heart out of things for once, let something be impersonal...

But, the day didn't quit just because Adam had things on his mind. He got up and headed to the ranch begrudgingly, black and bitter coffee hot in his hand. There were more practices in session and everyone was gearing up for the upcoming season. All three training rings were in use and mock runs were taking place on the straightaways. The indoor rings were booked for a regional competition and that left Adam and Bowie lying in wait for both space to train, and a rider. While Bowie enjoyed an extra hour of rest and some feed off of the books, Adam sat in the Rider's Lounge with his mug and stirred emotions.

"Hey, Adam...Adam?" Tommy arrived and was waving his hand in front of a blank and expressionless face. Uncovered freckles dashed over Adam's nose and the outline of his hairline where black hair had yet to fall from the stress of the day.

"Yeah, sorry....just thinking. Good to see you." Tommy sat down on the couch as close to Adam as he could get, slipping his arm around a warm back in greeting, pushing his face into the curve of an arm. Usually, Adam leaned into the touch, enjoyed the feeling of someone else so intimately close. But now, it was like fire pokers of warning to his side, a burning reminder of how temporary Tommy might be. Adam squirmed away, confusing him.

"Damn...what about?" Tommy uprighted himself and leaned on the back of the sofa instead of Adam.

"Just some things,” Adam paused. “You know, the race is getting close."

"A race is always getting close, Adam. You know that better than anyone here. What's really eating you?" Adam wanted to hang his head and confess how everything that had seemed so right for the past couple of months was suddenly unbearably wrong. Tommy was the one Adam had warmed up to, the one he thought he could love, but things changed. Now, Tommy was the one that was causing him pain. Maybe Cassidy was right, after all.

"Nothing, nothing...I'm fine, really." To satisfy them both, Adam pressed a kiss to the patch of skin beside Tommy's bangs before sliding out of the seat and skittering off down the hall. Tommy was left there, uncomfortable and confused, hoping he wasn't the problem. He understood that things were advancing quickly, and had even suggested taking it slow--but Adam, what could be really bothering him?

Adam stumbled to the tack room with a flustered step, bracing himself against the wall as his mind raced. Memories washed over him from the night before the race. Adam remembered how much he didn't want Kris to race the Prix, but for some reason, Kris felt he needed to. They both hated the recurring fight, but Adam hated the idea of not having Kris more than anything. Then, the thought of possibly losing Kris to a dusty demise was always chafing against his heart. Over time, he had somehow gotten used to the constant possibility that Kris may never come home. But now, his nerves were alight at the thought of losing someone else for a second time. He felt that internal chaos once before, and somethings are just only made to be experienced a single time. Before he could rein himself in and calm the tornado of grief-stricken memories beginning to twirl in his head, he was sucked in.

~~~

He'd been persistent in not letting Kris enter, but it was of no use...

"Adam, I love you, believe me, I do. But, I love to race, too. You know that, and I know that you'll be behind me in this...I know that you understand." Kris rambled on the night before the race, pacing with tired eyes and a body sore from weeks of relentless practice. Adam stood defeated and slouched in front of him, leaned against the counter and said, "I love to race just as much as you do, Kris. But I want you to come home in one goddamned piece. I don't want to have to crank you out of bed in the morning. It's just not worth it."

Yet, no amount of convincing could get Kris to realize he wasn't in fact invincible. Adam doubted if he would ever understand that the thunder of racing hooves and the snap of a paralyzed back had no favor, no bias. Kristopher Allen had just as much a chance of living his last moments contorted in pain, writhing in hoof-stomped sand as any other jockey did. But, to Adam, Kris wasn't just any jockey.

~~~

"... I should probably just let him go..." Tommy mumbled under his breath as he habitually twirled split ends between gloved fingers. "He's stressed with the race and he's worried, and that's just it..." And that was it, but that wasn't all of it. Between the roar of his own self-doubting thoughts, Tommy heard what sounded like a muffled sob coming from somewhere outside of the door. In seconds he was up and on his feet, travelling towards the sound with a nervous hop in his step. The soft cries grew louder when Tommy reached and pushed open the door to the tack room.

He then hurried over to Adam, taking the quivering six foot frame into a solid hugin one fluid motion. Adam was near wailing now, deeper, louder cries rattling through his body as his knees gave out and he slid, back along the wall, to the floor. Tommy helped him to ease down, reduced to an all sympathetic expression and tender, comforting hands. His voice was soft as comforting words were whispered directly over Adam's ear. Those words just led Adam to burrow deeper into Tommy's chest, fists balling into the folds of his jacket.

Adam had so much to say then, but his words came only as hiccups and garbled, pained sounds. Tommy understood it all, though: the pain, the fear, and wanted nothing more than the ability to take it all away. He grimaced, searching for the right thing to say.

"I know you don't believe this now, Adam, but listen to me...." Tommy maneuvered Adam before him so their eyes would meet. "I will never leave you." He enunciated each word as if it was a promise. Adam searched Tommy's eyes for an inkling of untruth, anything that looked like a letdown. He found nothing but love and just nodded, letting the rest of the tears come as they may. Right there in the tack room, Tommy on his knees and wrapped around Adam, they both realized it was more than just a colleague thing, or hell, even a friendship.

Adam and Tommy were in love.

~~

From that moment, there in the tack room, Adam knew Tommy was worth keeping. Adam's heart had made a decision that this head was unable to reverse. Practices continued daily, with Bowie and Tommy getting faster and stronger as each session went on. But, the relationship between horse and rider wasn't the only thing growing. Just as much as racing was the central focus of their combined time, love was a higher law.

Tommy and Adam spent almost every night together in the upcoming days, forgetting about the world curled around each other in the early mornings and late nights. As much as Adam wanted to be an optimist and say there really was no chance Tommy would leave him, the fact of the matter was that the race was tomorrow, and tomorrow would come entirely too soon.

 

 

PART VIV: SUNRISE

Sunlight filtered in through transparent, white linens and pooled into an oasis on the floor. The bed was warm with the night's leftover affection, sheets wrinkled and tucked under pillows and in between legs. A bird began a song outside the window and it slowly rocked Adam to consciousness. He went to stretch, but his arms were pinned. Tommy lay wrapped in them, sweetly sleeping, his hair fanned out against the white pillowcase.

The innocence of the entire scene made Adam smile. He then looked up as the morning broke swiftly over the town, the mountains beginning to cut into the yellow-tinted clouds across the distance of the city's downtown square. Adam shifted a little, bringing Tommy closer to his chest and breathed in near his neck. It smelled like love and that unshakable scent of fresh saddle leather, something that was so uniquely Tommy, something that was now also so uniquely Adam's.

The thought ended when Adam caught sight of purple racing gear sticking out of a cardboard UPS box on the chaise in the corner. Tommy had carried the box in the night before when he came, eyes alight with excitement. He had nearly busted down Adam's door in his excited frenzy. The box's upper flaps were ripped to shreds in his haste, Adam watching on like a quietly satisfied parent on Christmas morning. Tommy held the jacket up, his number and Bowie's name emblazoned in silver, metallic thread on the sleeve. Adam was thrilled then, but now that jacket just brought worry.

With a quick look to the digital display on the alarm clock, Adam counted down the time. There were eight hours until the race.

"Good morning, you..." Tommy's voice was raspy with sleep when he roused. He rolled completely over, away from the bright and rising sun to Adam.

"Mmmm....morning," Adam smiled when Tommy stretched, the impossibly tiny frame expanding just a little. "You ready?"

"Hell yeah," Tommy's grin was broad. "So are you." Tommy reached for Adam's hand and pressed his fingers through the empty spots. "We've got this."

But what would they really have when it was said and done?

 

 

PART X: THE MOST IMPORTANT THING

Adam watched Tommy listlessly as he pulled on black jodhpurs, slithering into the fabric with a practiced ease. Adam didn't notice when Tommy came over to stand behind him, nuzzling gently into the warm spot between his chin and shoulder.

"Hey, I'm the one racing here. Adam, calm down." Tommy reached down and interlocked their fingers, squeezing hard. "Nothing's gonna happen to us..."

"I know, I know, I know." Adam wanted to know for sure though. There was no way. The stakes were too high and the margin was too wide...and the truth was that there were three laps between life and death. The time between was more than Adam could handle. Adam's hands were lifeless in Tommy's. Sighing, Tommy moved from the back of the chair and knelt between Adam's knees.

"Hey, you. Look at me." Adam looked up from his shaking hands. Tommy's long, flaxen bangs were pinned back over his ears, his face flushed from a recent shower. His lips were pulled into a tight line and Adam knew he was nervous too. "No, really, look at me." When Adam complied, Tommy's eyes were huge and crossed. Adam tried to suppress his laugh but it was no use.

"Alright, alright....what?"

"I know you're nervous. You're allowed to be, really, go ahead and freak out...I just need you to know something."

"What is it?"

"What did I promise you?

"What?" Adam's full eyebrows moved together in confusion.

"What did I promise you?" Tommy repeated again, his grip on Adam's arms tightening just a little.

"You promised I could keep that stupid skull scarf, and that you'd never, ever take me back to Coopers and..." Tommy cut Adam off with a quick kiss.

"What did I promise you?" He repeated one, final time and Adam understood.

"You promised...." Adam paused, closed his eyes. "...that you'd never leave me." Tommy kissed him once more.

"And..." His words were separated by the press of lips. "I....don't....break....promises." They parted with their foreheads leaning against one another, hands in a lazy pile in Adam's lap.

"JOCKEYS, TRAINERS AND HANDS, TIME TO RACE IS TWENTY MINUTES. THE 2010 PRIX REGALE IS SPONSORED BY..."

The loudspeaker boomed in and shattered the moment, Adam's face falling. The joints in Tommy's knees popped as he stood up, reaching out to bring Adam with him.

"Come on. We've got a race to win." They did, and sure, they might, but was it all worth it in the end? Tommy grabbed his helmet and Bowie's rhinestone encrusted bow for good luck, and most importantly, Adam's hand. They walked together, clasped hands shaking and nervous out into the sparkling daylight.

 

  
PART XI: STUCK ON REPEAT

The starting gun's shot through the air might as well have gone straight through Adam's heart. It burned and set fire to his blood, watching as Tommy and his royal purple riding gear merged into the middle of the line of swiftly moving horses. Millions of dollars were invested into each horse and rider, thousands of spectators and gamblers and trainers and recruiters all scrutinizing each step of the way. It was chilly still, with spring just starting to break, but Adam was sweating bullets. The sound of his heart beating was a persistent hammer in his ears. One year ago today he was smiling, cheering too, but so much had changed since then.

When the line finished the first lap, the glee-filled urgings of ladies in too-large brimmed hats and their suit-clad companions exploded. The horses were all panting and running at their best capacity, listening acutely to their riders and fighting a competition of their own. Adam's heart was near arrest at that point, his nails digging half moons into his palm. He closed his eyes and tried to breathe, tried to tell himself that it couldn't happen twice. Right? He swallowed his dread and put on a smile. Adam fixed his eyes on Bowie's glistening coat and his rider's upright stance, their pull to the front of the line steady and profound.

The second bend in the second lap was sharp, although, and Adam had seen what it did to riders throughout his career. He sucked in a breath and held onto it like it was being wrestled from his lungs. Time stood still. Tommy and Bowie cleared it with a trained luster. The other jockeys, locked in determination put the crop to their horses and dived forward, but Tommy and Bowie's lead grew with each stride. Then, the unthinkable...

In the following seconds, Adam watched Bowie trip for the final time. He saw the horse's muscles spasm, and his heart prepared to shatter. Adam's legs prepared to race to the track, but he knew he would only be shooed away eventually by a swarm of paramedics and EMT's. His ears awaited the sound of sirens blaring against the stunned silence as all eyes in the arena fell onto the prone figures lying in the dust.

That prone figure, this time, was Tommy, not Kris; and Adam didn't know if he could do it again. A blur clouded Adam's vision as he hopped the railing to reach the track, but his emotions were crystal clear. An overwhelming sense of powerlessness washed through him like a terrible and blackened sea. He cut through the hoof divots in the sand of the raceway, making a beeline for Tommy. The jockey's helmet visor was crooked across his face. Adam moved it away with a quaking hand before pressing his palm to the side of an exertion flushed cheek, blood beginning to seep from a small cut just over a brown eyebrow.

"I'm so sorry..." Tommy muttered incoherently, eyelids drooping down and begging for the comfort of closing

"No, no....." Adam replied, repeating the only word that made sense. No, Tommy shouldn't be sorry. No, this shouldn't be happening. No, no, just no. Tommy worked to bring his own hand up to grasp onto Adam's arm, steadying himself as dizziness nearly forced him too, to the ground. "You're gonna be okay, just stay with me, Tommy, please..." Adam managed, tears glistening under his lashes as the all too familiar charade seemed to repeat. The paramedics were persistent in trying to pull Adam away as they arrived, but he refused. Tommy's breath slowly became more labored, his body struggling to process all of the places it hurt from. As Adam leaned over farther, stroking down Tommy's chest with the pads of his fingertips, the injured jockey whispered in his ear.

"I promised. I'll never leave you." With that, Tommy succumbed to the agony that had become unbearable, throbbing pain busy buffeting his nerves. His chocolate eyes snapped shut and Adam lurched away. Kris's eyes, the same impossibly deep hue of brown had shut just the same way, on the same track, on the same horse, on the same day just a year ago.

Bowie then sprang into his mind and he scanned the section of track for the familiar bay horse. Bowie was lying on his side near the fence, stomach heaving and eyes wide. A troupe of vets were hovering over him, trying to calm his skittishness and administer drugs. Bowie's back leg was bent at a gruesome angle, the hoof cracked straight through. It was a painful injury that would never allow him to race again, if he could even ever walk.

"Sir...we need consent to put Bowie down." The uncompassionate Vet tech asked for his signature like it was a credit card purchase, not the end of a life. Adam pushed past her wordlessly and knelt down next to Bowie's head, rubbing his hands into the side of the horse's hollowed cheeks.

"Sir? You must know the pain he's in..."

"Just, stop. You're not killing him. Send him to Somerset." Adam remembered visiting Bowie at the same rehab center the day of Kris's funeral, his eyes flooding over now. The vet huffed nervously, looked to her assistant and barked directions at him, calling for a transport carrier and heating blankets before shuffling away.

"Hey, Bow...Bowie, I know..." The horse's breath was coming out in short pants, his lungs struggling to intake enough oxygen.

"Bowie, we're gonna fix things for you this time, too..." Adam extended his arm to lean down into the horse's neck, nuzzling the spot just behind Bowie's ear.

"Life in the pasture, huh? Something to consider?" Adam's voice was cracked and scarred with threatening sobs. Bowie's breath eventually evened out, the drugs numbing the pain and calming him down. The vets rolled the carrier over to the horse with a professional rapidity, shoving Adam away and sternly refusing to let him return.

"You bring him back!" Adam called across the distance as they carted him away, voice disappearing halfway through his command.

 

PART XII: MEMORY

On Adam's way back to the stable, he ignored the crowd and the people trying to talk to him and the blood on his hands and the pain in his chest. He ignored it all and, screw the stable, trudged straight to his car, shoved the keys in the ignition and sped off down the highway. The road seemed to melt before him. Adam gripped the steering wheel tight with white knuckles, causing the stitches in the leather to cut into his palms. The yellow lines seemed to merge together as he searched for his exit, turning blindly and narrowly missing the divider.

He thought about smashing into a tree, or running the ramp and skipping out on another funeral and another burial. He wanted to leave the pain to the others for once, he had taken his turn already.

When the light turned red, Adam slammed on the brakes. His chest collided with the steering wheel, hands braced on the dashboard. Stopped there in the intersection, the red glare burned through his windshield with an intensity no traffic signal should ever have. The crimson red faded to green, but Adam did not move, forced only by screeching horns and a line of cars amassing behind him. Adam sighed and urged the car down the road. He had no desire, though, to trudge up the stairs because he knew what lay behind the door. Memories of Kris were waiting in the portraits and the pictures and the knickknacks and flannel shirts still hanging in the closet.

Although, memories of Tommy were there now too: his jacket and the blanket that smelled like him. His iPod, the one filled with Manson and Depeche, laid on the dresser next to the Grimstone DVD he left last week. The night they watched that movie, Adam remembered, was the night Tommy first fell asleep in his arms. Silent, bitter tears were now marching a trail down his chin and pooling in a spot on his collar, but he didn't care.

 

PART XIII: ASSURANCE

Adam finally fell asleep some hours later, there in his car, head leaned up against the window. It was cold that night, the winter air somehow returning, but he managed. In the morning, he was awoken by the violent vibrations of his phone. Scrambling to consciousness, Adam ripped it out and answered the call, the ID reading a number he'd never seen.

"Hello?" He cringed at the sound of his voice, raspy with sleep and hours of crying.

"Hello. Mr. Lambert? This is Doctor Moran from Overlook Hospital." The doctor sounded like every other one he'd ever spoken with, voice too sympathetic and knowing.

"Yes..." Adam squeezed the lids of his eyes shut, preparing for the worst news he could hear.

"We have Tommy here, he listed you as an immediate contact. Have you been updated on his status?" The doctor's every word was like a stab to the brain in wait.

"No, no, what's going on?" Adam had to fight to ask. He knew it was probably better not to know.

"He's sleeping right now, and not in pain, but he has three fractured ribs, a broken ankle and a twisted joint in his elbow in addition to the common cuts and bruises. I'm sure you know the nature of his profession..."

"He's gonna be okay, though?" Adam’s voice teemed with disbelief.

"Yes, he's expected to make a full recovery. It might be nice for him to have someone here when he wakes up, would you like directions?"

"No, no, I'll be there." Adam didn't wait for a reply. He threw the car into reverse and backed out of the parking lot without looking. He sped down the street and raced to the hospital, leaving traffic and thoughts of death to lay on the ground he flew over.

Tommy was right.

~~~

What should have been a solid, half-hour drive was covered in fifteen minutes. Adam ignored parking signs and sprinted through revolving doors, stopping only briefly at the nurse's desk to get a room number.

"I'm looking for a room." Adam huffed. "Tommy, Tommy Ratliff?"

"Oh, yes, he came in yesterday, from the track. Doctors thought he was a goner..." The nurse paused and Adam nearly jumped out of his skin. "He's on the sixth floor, room 24." Adam lost common courtesy and left without thanks. He rushed to the elevator and pressed the call button a hundred more times than necessary, willing the doors to open faster. The contraption dinged and Adam leaped in, slapping the 6 and pacing the tiled floor. He almost didn't notice when he had reached the level, the doors now open to a bustling unit filled with nurses in colorful scrubs. The smell of disinfectant and sterile sheets entered his lungs as he jogged down the aisle, stopping only to read the red, embossed placards that numbered the rooms. 24 was the first marker at the beginning of the hall, and Adam hung a left and swept into the room. He slammed into a hidden IV pole and nearly knocked it over, the metallic clang reverberating throughout the whole room.

~~~

"Adam?" Tommy groaned and tried to roll over in the stiff hospital bed, sore, bruised and broken parts of his body protesting the movement. Adam looked up from his nervous scramble to still the hanger. As soon as he caught sight of Tommy, his heart dropped.

"Stay there, stay there..." He let the metal post clatter to the floor and raced the distance to Tommy's bedside, clasping their fingers together and gripping them tight, kissing over the thin knuckles. The corners of Tommy's lips curled up as he squeezed back, watching as tears once again started their march down the sides of Adam's face.

"I told you I'd never leave you." Adam looked up, eyes sparkling in pain and relief. He took one hand away from and cupped the side of the jockey's cheek, dainty, bruised features looking smaller than usual under his palm. He stared directly into Tommy's eyes then, knowing he finally could believe him. Adam leaned down and lowered his lips down over Tommy's, the jockeys cool and dry. Pure comfort and trust was expressed in the action, the movement of mouths weighted with emotions that could never be put into words.

"I love you..." Adam whispered, his quivering smile just barely an inch above Tommy's. The jockey's grin erupted then, the light returning to his face in one deluge of warmth that seemingly spread under his skin.

"I love you, too." Tommy accented the you affirmatively, his eyes answering any question Adam still held onto. Adam turned back and carded a hand through Tommy's hair, dragging his thumb over the ivory-skinned and lightly bandaged forehead underneath.

The last time Adam was in a hospital room, he'd been crying for a different reason, heart breaking instead of healing, marred memories burning in his mind instead of joyful ones. Things were different now, just like Tommy promised they'd be, the opposite of the same day nearly a year ago.

This day didn't end on the track. This day didn't bring loss. This day though, Adam thought, had one thing in common with the one last year - he'd remember it forever.

Tommy leaned into Adam's touch and let his head roll, wishing it was something else he'd broke because he really wanted to rub his eyes.

"Lonely in here." Tommy nodded toward the stretch of bed beside him, sterile white sheets anything but inviting. Adam just smiled and boosted himself up onto the stainless steel bed, wiggling around until Tommy fit into his chest, battered body pillowed against his side.

"Better?" Adam asked, his voice careful, tugging the smaller man closer with a carefully placed squeeze. Tommy just mhmm-ed in reply, letting Adam's heartbeat and his scent and the push-pull of strong breath calm him.

"This is probably too soon, but do you think you'd ever ride again?" Adam stroked over the pained spots and broken ribs with a light hand.

"That's like never eating again because you choked...I can't not ride." Bowie's image then flashed into Tommy's mind. He remembered feeling Bowie's legs shimmy, remembered the rush of sand up into his face. He remembered the impact and the instant pain, the shifts he felt along his sides and the pressure against his forehead. Adam's stern words and comforting hand couldn't even do much for the pain. The blue sky that laid above him turned black then and Tommy’s eyes slipped closed, ending his memory of the ordeal.. But Bowie...all Tommy remembered about him was seeing the defeated heap near the center fence, neck strained in pain and hooves stretched, trying in vain to relieve the aches. In all that Tommy knew, racehorses didn't recover from falls like that once, nevermind twice..

"What's wrong?" Adam noticed the grimace that ghosted across Tommy's face, a troubled glare that came and went.

"Bowie...how is he?" Tommy tried to prop himself up, but was forced back down by the pain.

"No, no, stay." Adam gently guided Tommy back to the mattress with a spread palm on his chest. "He's doing alright...they have a couple stints that they want to put in. For now, he's just resting."

"Just resting?"

"Tommy, Bowie's going to be okay. He's not going to race again, but he's going to be okay."

"Will he ever walk?" Adam hummed thoughtfully and kissed at the angry, red flesh around Tommy's bandage.

"He's a racehorse Tommy. He'll do whatever he wants." The statement made the jockey smile. Adam just nuzzled into the top of Tommy's head, breathing in something sweeter now, the smell of home and a kept promise.

 

PART XIV: KRIS'S REDEMPTION

"How is he?" It was Tommy's first day walking on his own, free of the crutches and braces that made him look fragile and smaller than his five feet. He and Adam were making their way, hand in hand down the stable corridor, ready to see Bowie.

"I'd say he's doing great." Adam said, turning his head down to Tommy, offering a smile. They reached the stall in only a few more nervous strides, the horse's head coming to peek over the door.

"Bowie! My boy..." Tommy released Adam's hand and slung his arms around the horse's neck. It wasn't as muscular as before, thinner now, the coat less thick. The leg that had been so badly twisted just months before was now straightened out, a flexible cast helping to support the weight. Adam just watched the reunion, contented with knowing that you didn't always lose everything.

"He looks great..." Tommy said softly, combing his fingers through the horse's forelock.

"So do you." Adam came up behind the jockey and spread his palms on his sides, running his fingers along the spots in which broken ribs had just recently healed. Tommy let his head roll back onto Adam's shoulder, allowed a strong set of arms to wrap around his waist. Bowie whinnied in a mix of approval and jealousy, earning a smile from both men.

"I have a surprise for you, by the way." Adam remarked, pointing with a nod of his head towards the pasture. Tommy's eyebrows raised in curiosity as he followed with measured steps to one of the fenced rings. A gelding that was enclosed there came into view, a glistening white coat with a flaxen mane and tail that reached far below his hocks. Positively a Percheron, mixed with Mustang? The horse's eyes were a shocking blue, stark and rimmed in black.

"Who's this?" Tommy asked, the beauty of the equine making words catch his throat.

"Whoever you want him to be, really. He's yours. If you still want to ride." Tommy turned to face Adam then, unbelieving, looping his arms around Adam's neck. Adam ducked his head down to plant a deep kiss on his boyfriend's lips, the turmoil of Tommy's recovery fading away to something even lesser than a distant memory.

"He's yours, and so am I." Adam said, puffs of breath warm over Tommy's lips in the warming Summer air. They parted slowly, smiles matching and foreheads touching, comfortable in the other's familiar and hard fought for embrace. "What should we name him?" Adam asked, waiting for a reply as Tommy dropped his arm to Adam's waist and turned back to the horse. He was so peacefully grazing in the pasture. Tommy paused for a moment, his expression glazing over with thought before he replied. His voice was near a whisper.

"Kris."

 

EPILOGUE: WINNER’S CIRCLE

"Winners of the 2011 Prix Regale will receive, 250,000 in monetary earnings, a full sponsorship by Abetta Riding...based on tenure, riders, trainers, and equine bloodlines earn accolades according to circumstance. Please, join me in congratulating the winners of this year's race on their first exhibition, Kris's Flight, with Tommy Ratliff, as trained by Adam Lambert."

Tommy trotted in with his horse, Adam jogging by on the ground. The raised platform of the winner's circle was crowded with flashing camera bulbs and microphones, reporters swarming for a statement. Sponsors and training guilds begged for technique appointments and contracts, their voices and cheers raising into a chaotic cacophony that was impossible to tune out. Tommy hopped down from his saddle and flew into Adam's arms. The embrace was impossibly tight and held for what seemed like forever. The announcement speakers crackled once again, the emcee's dramatic voice filtering through the chatter.

"Thank you to all of our participants, attendees, and staff!"

Nearby, shaken bottles of champagne spewed a foamy pink liquid, bubbles flying upward and landing down on the crowd. Tommy and Adam pulled away, eyes still locked together as the directors of the track and the previous champion lowered a cowl of flowers, ribbons and branches over the horse's neck. The colors popped vividly against his white coat, the sun's glare making everything seem sharp and crisp. Adam was all grins and relieved excitement as he grabbed for the back of Tommy's neck, pulling him close and pressing their lips together in a tender kiss.

"So...we did it." Tommy said, breath barely returning.

"Congratulations, babe. One hell of a first race."

"Mr. Lambert! Hello! Can we ask you a couple of questions about your style? How did you take a virtually untrained gelding and project him into the winners circle? Is there something we should know for the advancement of all other training techniques?" The men and women prattled on with their pens poised over their notebooks, but Adam ignored them.

"Hey," Tommy began, palming the side of Adam's face.

"What?" Adam smiled down into the touch.

"I told you I'd never leave you."


End file.
